


who's gonna love me now?

by bisexualbluesargent



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Pre-Time Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-02-28 17:34:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,205
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23351053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexualbluesargent/pseuds/bisexualbluesargent
Summary: “I thought you would be different, you know, when I first met you,” Zoro mused.“And what did you think I would be like?” asked Sanji sweetly, slapping a pancake onto his pan with a little too much force.Zoro thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “You confuse me.”
Relationships: Roronoa Zoro/Vinsmoke Sanji
Comments: 24
Kudos: 262





	who's gonna love me now?

**Author's Note:**

> so i've only seen like 50 episodes of one piece but i really love these two and the energy of the crew at the moment so. this takes place in that era of the show. i'm going to get up to date with this show if it takes me ten years of my life
> 
> title from the cold war kids song
> 
> update: they do not sleep in bunk beds in the merry but let’s just pretend they do all right it’s for the vibe

“You’re pretty fucking annoying, you know that?” Sanji swerved out of the way as Zoro tried to swipe another finger of batter.

Zoro bared his teeth at him. “Look who’s talking, asshole. Fix your hair.” He maneuvered around Sanji’s shoulders, succeeding this time as Sanji took a moment to put on an offended expression.

“That’s unsanitary,” he muttered under his breath, huffing and adjusting his apron. Zoro leaned against a nearby doorframe, eyebrow raised. A clatter of a fork on the counter. Sanji’s hand, pushing strands of his own hair behind his ear, the locks falling back into place anyway. A resigned sigh.

“I thought you would be different, you know, when I first met you,” Zoro mused, barely paying attention to what he was saying.

“And what did you think I would be like?” asked Sanji sweetly, slapping a pancake onto his pan with a little too much force.

Zoro thought for a moment. “I don’t know,” he said finally. “You confuse me.”

—

Sanji - and Zoro found this extremely amusing - enjoyed being stepped on, he thought. Metaphorically or whatever. Zoro was sure Sanji knew Nami had no real interest in him - or any other men, it seemed - but continued to wax poetic and make grandiose declarations of love to her on the daily. Making a special meal for her. Watering a plant she had found on some island, talking to it late at night (he had told Zoro that it helped it grow, but Zoro was finding it hard to believe Sanji had any semblance of sanity inside of him). Zoro had once quietly put a flower in a vase when no one was looking and Sanji had narrowed his eyes at it, called it ugly, told him to move it to where he couldn’t see it because it was ruining the decor ( _What fucking decor?_ Zoro had argued, and had almost pushed Sanji out a porthole).

And maybe it was only women? Zoro didn’t know. The minute he or Luffy or Usopp told him what to do, he got prickly and unforgiving, yelling and sneering at anything he could find. Zoro figured he had grown up with men pushing him around and had cultivated a wall of defense. The lack of women in his childhood was obvious whenever someone would make the rare comment about their mother, for instance; Sanji would avert his eyes, make an excuse to leave. 

Sanji was very emotional, Zoro thought, and very sensitive. Would wear it on his sleeve, sure, but didn’t like that he did. Probably cried into his pillow at night. Zoro didn’t see anything that was wrong with that, but he had his own coping mechanisms, like his three swords and his occasional speeches about promises and fate.

Anyway, this meant Zoro liked to push Sanji around, looking for reactions. It got boring on the ship sometimes, in between fights. On slow days, he would take three naps and stare into the sun and then when that wasn’t enough, he would slip past Nami (reading a newspaper, rolling her eyes) into the kitchen where Sanji would be wearing an apron with some slogan on it he had probably embroidered himself. Zoro could not figure out when Sanji had packed all of these extra clothes or where he had put them, even, when he had first joined the crew.

Today was a slow day. The sun agreed; her arms were wavering down, beating Zoro’s skin unforgivingly, but at a slow pace, matching the speed of the waves and the wind, which was barely a breeze. Luffy was jumping around the ship, never at a loss for energy, Usopp behind him and chasing him around, arms flapping. Nami was telling them to be quiet. Zoro had never shied away from routine. He understood its value. In fact, he felt his breathing settle, felt his heart warm. The word friendship seemed corny to him, but it was there, smiling cheekily.

Sanji sauntered above deck. He was always sauntering, so Zoro couldn’t be blamed for watching him do it. There wasn’t much else to look at but an expanse of blue above and below him. So he watched. He looked.

Zoro shut his eyes just as Sanji settled down next to him. He heard the puff of a cigarette. _Leave it to him to disturb my peace_ , Zoro grumbled internally, brows furrowing. “Not cooking, huh, _cook.”_

“Your insults are weak, sword boy.” Some movement. Sanji was probably leaning back on his hands in the way he always did. “It’s barely past midday. We just ate.”

Zoro opened one eye to look at him, a gift to himself that worked as part of his mask of nonchalance. “And it was the worst meal you’ve made yet. Spaghetti? I could make that when I was five.”

To his surprise, Sanji laughed at him around his cigarette. The sound was sharp enough that Zoro heard Luffy stop yelling on the other side of the ship and lower his voice to say something to Usopp, who murmured back. “Sure you could, mosshead.”

Zoro couldn’t find it in himself to retort back as Sanji grinned at him, jarring and open. Zoro closed his eyes again, eyebrow twitching. “Fucking rude.”

Just the ocean and the flap of the sail for a while, and then: “I could teach you sometime.” Sanji’s voice was airy and out of nowhere. “To cook.”

Zoro’s hands were tensing up without his permission. “I already know how to cook,” he said, annoyed at himself, at this fucker next to him, at the seagull soaring above for disturbing the painting-like quality of the atmosphere.

“Uh huh,” said Sanji, lips blowing out smoke, Zoro watching it happen, almost jumping up when Sanji’s eyes flicked in his direction to meet his, like he knew.

—

And another thing. Sanji and Zoro slept in the same room. On bunk beds. Like fucking children. Except they weren’t like children, they were nineteen year olds and Zoro sometimes woke up in the middle of the night to Sanji having a nightmare or jacking off, he wasn’t sure. He didn’t ask. It was rare that this happened, anyway, and Zoro was a deep sleeper.

The living situation, though, meant that Zoro often had to see Sanji naked, stepping out of their rusty bathtub that you had to fill with water yourself, whatever. Which was… fine? It was fine, he thought, but maybe it wasn’t, because he was obviously thinking about it too often and would have to say things like “You look like a wet rat” to Sanji before he got too impulsive and said something else. He wasn’t sure what it was he couldn’t say. He just knew he was afraid of it, and that irritated him.

It was late, Luffy and Usopp were looking at the stars or some shit with Nami and Sanji was in his boxers on the top bunk - they switched bunks every so often because Sanji had said he wanted variety, though Zoro could not care less - and he was talking about some girl from some island and Zoro was tired, he wished he would shut up.

He said so. Sanji bristled accordingly. Sanji wasn’t the type to pout at all but Zoro liked to imagine it for the laughs. 

“You’ve probably never seen romance,” Sanji said icily. “You’ve probably never been in love.” He seemed to be searching for the right insult to notch into his bow of bullshit.

“Ouch,” said Zoro conversationally, rolling over on his pillow. “Good night.”

“Good night, virgin,” said a satisfied voice from above, like he had reached the goddess of comedy herself, shaken her hand.

Zoro’s eyelids creaked open. He glared at the floorboards. “Shithead. You’re one to talk.”

Sanji was chortling under his sheets. “Ooh, he’s offended!”

“No.” Zoro kicked the mattress above him. “Fucking stupid ugly eyebrows.”

“So articulate,” replied Sanji, amused more than anything. “You’re angry because it’s true.”

“What are we, twelve,” grumbled Zoro. “No,” he said louder. “But I’m not going to dignify you, of all people, with a real answer. Now shut _up.”_

“Of all people,” repeated Sanji, considering. Zoro ignored him.

“Then you won’t mind if I do this, then.” Sanji sheets were moving. “You know, because you’re definitely not a prude.”

Zoro’s felt his face flare up. “I do mind, because I’m trying to sleep.”

“I’ll be quiet.”

Zoro kicked the mattress above, furiously, getting up in one swift motion. “Are you really fucking beating off right now? Really, Sanji?”

Sanji was shaking with laughter. “No, wasn’t really. Funny stuff, though.” He winked at him. “Go to sleep, won’t you?” Zoro was fuming.

—

“WHAT WAS THAT YOU SAID?” Sanji had Zoro up against a wall. Nami wet a finger to turn the page of her newspaper. Luffy was swinging his legs, watching, amused. Usopp was fooling around with some paint and a broken gun, asking them to cut it out, he was _working._

“I SAID TO GET YOUR HEAD OUT OF YOUR ASS AND PICK UP AFTER YOURSELF, YOU FUCKING-“

“PICK UP YOUR TRASH, THEN! OUR ROOM IS MESSY BECAUSE YOU-“

“BECAUSE YOU LEAVE YOUR SHIT EVERYWHERE. YOU LEAVE IT EVERYWHERE AND-“ A push. An almost-punch. Zoro throwing Sanji onto the ground, Sanji doing the same. His swords were put away. Sanji’s kicks were not at full force at all.

“IT’S AN ORGANIZED MESS,” Sanji roared at him almost comically. “I KNOW WHERE EVERYTHING IS. IF I CAN’T EVEN HAVE MY STUFF WHERE I WANT IT THEN WHAT IS THE POINT OF-“

“Quit it,” interrupted Nami. “This is already boring. You two idiots need to do this somewhere else.” Sanji stared at her, chest heaving. 

Zoro crossed his arms. “LIKE I’M GOING TO LISTEN TO YOU.” Nami’s expression changed. She was folding her paper into a compact square by the time Usopp walked over and became the mediator.

“Yeah, fight below deck or something, jeez,” he was saying, but Zoro was watching Sanji’s steam slowly run out.

Sanji clenched his fist, unclenched it. “It’s not worth it, anyway. This fool solves everything with violence, there’s no use talking to him,” he said, chin up, walking away.

“WHAT.” Zoro tackled him through the door, then grabbed him by the shirt, which was immaculate like it had been ironed, which it hadn’t, but that was Sanji for you. 

They looked at each other like that for a few moments, panting, Sanji’s eyes darting to Zoro’s hand and then his jawline, Zoro letting himself glance at Sanji’s neck, just once.

“Yeah?” breathed Sanji, expression betraying nothing, though his eyes were wide, his hands pressed onto the wall behind him.

“Yeah,” said Zoro, almost resigned, almost excited as he pressed his mouth to Sanji’s, the whole moment big, insane, he wanted to eat him alive, he wanted to-

Sanji let out a tiny noise, seemingly without his own permission, and Zoro smirked, nosing his below his jaw. “Shut up,” Sanji said, but Zoro hadn’t said anything.

“Wouldn’t want anyone to hear us,” said Zoro, voice lilting as he ran a hand up Sanji’s thigh. “Right?” Sanji only let out a long breath. “So nice that you’re suddenly quiet. Don’t have to hear your stupid fucking voice.”

Sanji’s laugh was low and crackly. “But for some reason I still have to hear yours.” He kissed him again. Zoro did not say anything for a while.

—

Zoro had the whole deck to himself: his companions were the creak of the ship as the wind pushed it farther and the sun, again, taking him in her embrace less violently than usual. Everything was perfect. Zoro had new scars, new enemies, a bounty on his head - it was perfect. He stretched his arms out behind him, a blanket they had received as a gift from some random old lady Usopp had charmed laid out underneath him. 

It was early morning, and the others were sleeping in. It had been a long week. Zoro took it as an opportunity to see the ocean at a different time of day, and there was a different personality to the way the currents moved. There were more birds out. Today he could see a cloud or two.

It wasn’t too long before he heard footsteps behind him. Luffy, maybe? At these hours the kid was uncharacteristically contemplative, staring out at the water at something Zoro didn’t exactly understand, but Zoro always secretly enjoyed his company, even when Luffy was being annoying. But, no - it was Sanji, the click of his shoes slightly different enough from the others that Zoro always knew when it was him. Sanji was a fan of high quality tailoring, blah blah blah. Another thing Zoro couldn’t care less about.

“Nice morning,” said Sanji, lighting a cigarette. 

Zoro grunted in agreement. He kind of wanted to simply lay there, not talking, and hoped Sanji would take the hint. That was one of the things he liked most about Nami specifically, although he cared for all the crew members in his own way: she didn’t find it necessary to always speak or move around. She enjoyed a quiet moment. Sanji was not adverse to it, but he liked to irritate Zoro more than relish in a respectful camaraderie.

Sanji laid down next to him, graceful in a way that Zoro found hard to explain. Zoro turned to look at him warily.

“Are you into girls?” Sanji said, copying Zoro’s position and folding his arms behind his head.

“Why?” asked Zoro, ruffled.

“I’m just curious, you loser. I’m into everyone,” Sanji replied, tone relaxed.

“Isn’t that the truth,” muttered Zoro, earning a slap on the arm. “Ugh,” he said. “Yeah. I guess I could be with anyone. Romantically. I just haven’t met many people I’ve wanted to. Be with.”

Sanji seemed to bite back something mean and instead said, “Less chance of getting hurt that way, though. At least your heart isn’t breaking every time you get rejected, like me.”

“Who’s rejecting you? Nami?” Zoro laughed at him. Sanji looked at him, displeased. “I mean, come on, shitface. You weren’t the right person for them, that’s all. At least you have more experience. What are you supposed to do, become a different person so you have different feelings?” Sanji moved his gaze away. Zoro continued. “Pros and cons. I personally just can’t find it in myself to care, most of the time.”

“Most of the time,” parroted Sanji cheekily.

“Yeah, well.” Zoro was not blushing.

Sanji paused, thoughtful. “Am I your type?”

“I don’t have a type,” Zoro said, rolling his eyes.

Sanji waved his hand around teasingly. “You’re certainly not mine.”

“Sure,” said Zoro, smile wide and sly. He formed a high-pitched imitation of Sanji’s voice. “ _I’m into everyone.”_

“Is that supposed to sound like me?” Sanji squawked, shoving Zoro by the shoulder as he laughed, bright and strange to his own ears. Weeks and weeks of laughter like this, he couldn’t believe it.

—

“Okay, so here’s the plan,” Nami was saying, a map stretched out on the wooden panels of the deck, but Zoro was getting distracted by Sanji continuously looking over at him. Zoro raised an eyebrow in his direction. Sanji did the same back.

“Uh,” said Zoro. “Sanji needs to check on something in the kitchen.”

Usopp snickered. Nami was unamused. “And you’re the one saying this because?”

“It’s true,” said Sanji sagely. “I’ve got something on the stove. Zoro is saying that because he’s my assistant now.”

“Oh, really,” started Zoro as Luffy and Usopp whispered to each other furiously, giggling. 

“Oh, really,” said Nami, too.

“Yes, really,” said Sanji, getting up, stretching out his shoulders, all casual. All easy movement. He stepped towards the door leading to the kitchen, nudging his head in that direction as a sign for Zoro to follow. “Come on, dish boy.”

“I’m not his dish boy, I want to make that clear,” said Zoro, getting up to laughter and pretending not to see Nami’s expression. 

“This is important, you know,” she said, and Zoro closed the door behind him to a leering comment from Luffy he didn’t totally hear.

“Over there,” said Zoro, a man of few words when he wanted to be, and Sanji twitched and seemed like he couldn’t figure out whether he wanted to move or punch him. 

“Over where?” Sanji asked innocently, but he moved to the wall, Zoro not far behind and pressing himself against him in no time.

“Why now, asshole,” panted Zoro as Sanji flipped them both around, had his knee in between Zoro’s thighs. 

“You didn’t have to come in here with me,” Sanji sneered at him. “What, I can get you hot just looking at you?”

“Apparently,” said Zoro on a sigh, running his hands over the back of Sanji’s trousers. “Shit.”

“Yeah, you like that?” Sanji was grabbing his cock through his pants. He ran his tongue behind the shell of Zoro’s ear, making him shudder. 

Zoro moaned, not wanting to respond. Doing this was extremely embarrassing, extremely vulnerable. No one had told him how this would be. And what was it? What was this?

“Please,” Zoro was saying, much to Sanji’s delight.

“Oh, how polite.” Sanji’s hand was down his pants, now, wrapped around the tip of his cock, thumbing at his slit. “Of course I’ll give it to you, Zoro. You just gotta ask.” His smile was razor-sharp. 

“You’re the worst,” said Zoro, out of breath. He was rocking into Sanji’s hand despite himself. He had thought this would last longer. Had he-? He’d thought about it. Dreams he barely remembered in the morning. Sheets damp. Glances at Sanji’s hands, light coming in through a tiny porthole, hitting it at all the right angles. Sanji changing in their room even though he knew Zoro was watching. That one night when Sanji replaced his bandages, tender and weirdly quiet, saying things like _there are too many crazy battle-loving idiots on this ship, huh_ and _I’ll have your back next time._ Yeah, Zoro had thought about it.

“Are you going to come for me, sword boy?” Sanji was sucking at his shoulder, shirt rucked down a bit. Zoro grabbed blindly for Sanji’s crotch, satisfied when Sanji let out a gasp.

“I wanna see you do it,” Sanji said. Hand moving faster now. Temperature rising, a small bead of sweat was trailing down his neck. Zoro used his other hand to wipe at it, thoughts mostly gone, sun blinding. He groaned. He was close.

When he came, Sanji did too and kissed him, hungry - how fitting. Everything was perfect.

—

Do what you want, Zoro had said, when Sanji had doted on Nami a little too much, weeks ago.

Do what you want, Zoro had said, when Sanji still hadn’t put away his belongings, it had been days, weeks, a month.

Do what you want, Zoro had said, when Sanji asked him what he liked, one night below deck, the waves being kind by hiding the noises they made.

What do you want, Zoro had asked Sanji, who had admitted that he couldn’t control his desires, couldn’t stop himself from following his heart. 

Sanji had slowly put out his cigarette, glanced at Zoro and said, you, fuckface.

It felt right.


End file.
